


Thanks to you

by CinisCinerem



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Brainwashing, Conditioning, Cutting, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Incest, Other, Past Sexual Abuse, Self-Harm, Sibling Incest, im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:48:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29362773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinisCinerem/pseuds/CinisCinerem
Summary: The killing game simulation just ended, and the 79th class of hopes peak academy is slowly recovering. Well, trying is the keyword. Unfortunately, some of them, including a certain Ultimate Anthropologist, had a lot more baggage from before the killing game, than what actually happened in it. Now, if only he could realise that as well.
Relationships: Shinguji Korekiyo/Shinguji Korekiyo's Sister
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Thanks to you

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! You’ve probably already seen it in the tags, but there are a lot of TWs for this one, because it is largely a vent fic. Please do not read this if you will be uncomfortable in any way, by reading. I do not want anyone to get hurt, especially not because of me. 
> 
> Just in case, here’s the TWs again: self harm (specifically cutting), implied incest, implied childhood sexual abuse, implied rape/non-con, implied dubious consent, emotional/psychological abuse, brainwashing (well kinda), conditioning, emotional manipulation.
> 
> If I missed a TW, please tell me so I can add it into the notes and/or tags.

Korekiyo was used to nightmares. Of course, this applied to most of his classmates, especially after the killing game simulation, but he had always been prone to have night terrors. He did not sleep much regardless and the times he did, he would repeatedly be woken up by some sort of nightmare. Most often, they were about certain troubles he had while traveling to foreign places and that was quite alright. But sometimes, his nightmares took a more..troubling form. They were never about the killing game, no. Korekiyo had, as soon as he discovered it all to be fake, accepted the events that took place and moved on with his live. The anthropologist did this, accepting things as they are, a lot, with many different situations. He understood of course, that the others carried some sort of trauma from their deaths or execution, and he was truly sorry for that, but he did not care much about the way he...well, died. Though painful, his execution had been quite interesting to witness. He had read a lot about torture practices such as the ones used in his execution, but experiencing them was something he had never dreamed of. Really, he was grateful for that opportunity. It had hurt, sure, but considering he had been tortured before, on, if he had to admit, worse levels, the execution itself did not affect him much. He was much more concerned about causing his victims trauma than himself (not that either of them seemed particularly traumatised, in fact Yonaga had come up to him to thank him of all things. Apparently, he had brought her closer to her God and she was eternally in debt to him. Korekiyo chose to ignore her offer of servitude in order to not get kicked in the head by Chabashira). No, the nightmares he had were always either about the aforementioned tortures (which were interesting too, but he did think that it was a rather rude greeting to tie him up and beat him to the brink of death that one time) or...well, about Her.

Korekiyo was uncertain as to why he had such nightmares about the person he loved, but they were worse than every dream he had about the various torture methods he studied (and in some cases experienced), or customs he had witnessed, which had involved things that, despite him being objective and decidedly not judgemental, made him feel sick. Those nightmares were different, reasonable even. The ones about Sister were not. He was so fortunate to have her back after the nightmare that was his, thankfully fake, life without here. He should be so, so happy that she was alive, and he was, he truly was, but..something did not seem right. Those dreams where she lay with him, a soothing smile on her face, running her hands over his body lovingly- they should be good dreams, should they not? He had cherished those moments so why- why were the dreams he had about it so frightening? Surely, dreams about Her, his lover, should have been a welcome distraction to nightmares, yes? Instead, they were the most troublesome, and- though he would not dare say it out loud, terrifying dreams he had. And he hated it. Hated that he had allowed his sub conscience to portray her actions in such a wrong light, hated being scared of someone he loved and most of all hated himself for having wronged her. He should not allow himself, no not even his subconscious, to have such a negative view of her actions. Because, even more so than the rest of humanity, Sister, along with her every move was beautiful. And Korekiyo, the foolish and annoying little brother that he was, causing more trouble than what he was worth, unable to be loved by anyone but his oh so generous sister, well, Korkeiyo was...ugly in comparison. A disgusting human being, if he should even be allowed the title of ‘human’. No, Korekiyo himself was the one thing about humanity he could not acknowledge as beautiful.

In his dreams would get an overwhelming sense of needing to run, or fight, or do something in order to get away from her, which was so different to how he actually felt. And...why should he run? For one, he knew was not be allowed to defy her, he should not be acting in such an ungrateful way, think of all that she gave you- and...and why would he ever want to? He loved her, did he not? If so, should he not act more like it? More like the good, silent little brother who stayed out of his sister’s way until she needed him? The little brother who, like a good child, managed to shut his mouth until allowed to speak? Korekiyo would never dare to oppose her while awake, so logically, he was not allowed to do it in his dreams either. 

He did not have those nightmares often, thankfully, but after the killing game simulation they had started to appear quite a bit more- or maybe that was simply because she herself was not nr=ear him to correct him, and people mentioned her more often. He understood that, of course. To them, their relationship was disgusting, weird and, to be fair, an intriguing topic for gossip. They observed his reactions to their ridiculing like he observed their every move and, quite frankly, he did not mind. It was frustrating to hear them insult Sister, but the attacks on himself were something he could handle. What he did mind, and was anxious about, was Sister finding out that his classmates knew about them. He would certainly be reprimanded severely for that. Ah, well, it was his fault after all (it always was.). Had he just kept quiet like he was expected to, this dilemma would not have been created in the first place. It was only right for her to discipline him. And it was not like his classmates were going to be the one to tell her. They were not at fault. In fact, he would be surprised if any of them even managed to bring themselves to talk to Her, should She choose to visit him here. No, he would be the one to report the bad things he had done, or thought or dreamed about while She was gone. Showing Her the scars from where he had punished himself for said actions and having Her decide if further disciplinary actions would be necessary.

As for today...well today he had truly done it. He had messed up, badly. The dream he had that night had been...bad. Unforgivable, even. Korekiyo had woken up at 7 am, more than an hour later than he should have (which was another severe mistake She would have to scold him for, because Korekiyo truly could not do anything right, could he?), covered in sweat and, what he supposed were tears. He was shaking, which was truly a pathetic way for the ultimate anthropologist to behave. He was supposed to be calm, composed. Because, he mustn’t lose compusure, mustn’t falter, mustn’t stutter. Shaking, even when no one was around was not something he could allow himself to do, not something she would allow him to do. It was simply. not adequate. As a younger brother, he had expectations to meet

Korekiyo did not remember all of his dream. He rarely did, which he believed to be an inconvenience. What if he had done something wrong without remembering it and was unable to take action against it? Would She ever forgive him for that? Ah, he mustn’t get off topic. He was just trying to distract himself from the inevitable. Pathetic, really. Embarrassing. He had worse things happen to him, he should not be childish like this. He could do this, he had done it a hundred times before. Well, not exactly a hundred. It might have been- no it had probably been more times. He had stopped counting eventually. Oh, he was getting off topic again. That in itself was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make. 

Korekiyo was still shaking now. Or had he stopped shaking when he woke up and started again? He did not remember. Amusing, how the human brain could forget such important details when in a panic. He should really get started now. Punishment was no excuse to miss classes after all. No, that would not be acceptable. Him missing a class would be rather unusual, and he really could not have anyone being suspicious of him. He needed to get this over with. He could almost hear Her behind him, whispering in his ear like when he was younger. ‘No more excuses sweet Korekiyo. You did something wrong and now you are being punished, you surely understand that, yes? You can do this for me can you not? You will be fine.’, she would say, running her fingers through his hair and holding him tightly, trying to make the process easier for him. He really did not deserve such generosity from her. It was his fault it even needed to happen in the first place. 

Now, to find his...equipment. Ouma had brought a lot of it into his research lab, claiming that it was too dangerous to be near a serial killer- which was a rather obvious lie, Ouma knew that part of his backstory wasn’t true. But what Korekiyo was searching for right now should still be hidden under the- Ah yes, there it was, still securely stored in a precisely decorated wooden box. 

The box opened with a little ‘click’ and he picked up the ritual knife, his still not bandaged hand shaking in...fear? No, surely that was not it. Anticipation, maybe. Korekiyo was not scared of such simple things as pain, he welcomed it even. So why was he- no, he should not dwell on such matters. It was certainly just an instinct, a natural reaction to thinking about something as vile as..well, himself. Indeed, that must be it. Korekiyo took a towel, a black one, and laid it on the ground he would be sitting on, in order to conceal any blood that might be dripping down on it during this ordeal. Getting blood stains out of tatami was near impossible, but the bathrooms in the dorms were shared, one for the male inhabitants of the school, one for the females. It was simply to risky. He was, without a doubt, aware of the fact that none of his classmates would voluntarily enter his room, but how do people say- yes, ‘better safe than sorry’. Sighing softly, Korekiyo sat down and rolled up the right sleeve of his pajama. There was a system to it, the right arm for punishments he performed on itself, the left one for Her. Not to say that any part of the body he was in was strictly ‘his’, that sort of thinking was improper, offensive even. But sister had proposed this system, trying to make it easier for him, benevolent as she was.

He had not put on his usual uniform yet out of fear of getting blood on it, as that would be unacceptable. His arm was already littered with scars from past disciplinary actions. Ugly. Beautiful. He was not sure. This was something Sister seemed indecisive on. For one, she would tell him how beautiful the scars made him look, how the imperfect skin was pleasant to touch and look at. On the other hand, she would often say that other people, other humans less perfect than herself, would not understand. They would look at him like a monster because of his disgraceful ugliness. She was the only one who was able to see beauty in a disgusting being such as himself. And he was so, so grateful for that.

The knife was weighing heavily in his hand, the obsidian blade reflecting light off of it. It was specifically made to cut skin, actually. A replica of a ritual knife, belonging to an ancient cult and used to make blood sacrifices to god. He had started studying it at the age of 12, prompted by Sister. It had been her idea to use said knife as well, and he welcomed that. He would not have been able to do this if he did not have something to use as an anchor, because, as She reminded him every so often, Korekiyo was imperfect. 

Korekiyo pressed the knife down on his arm, right under his elbow and dragged it through his skin, down to his hand. 

Slowly, dark red blood was running down his pale arm, drawing patterns on the blank canvas that was his skin and for a few seconds, he did not feel a thing, the adrenaline clouding his senses.  
Then, it began to sting. It did not bother Korekiyo, not really...not yet. He had gotten used to it by now but..he knew this wouldn’t do. It would not be a punishment if he did not care about it, would it now? If it did not bother him, if it did not hurt, he would not learn anything from it. Sister would not be satisfied with such lackluster effort.

A few minutes later, the anthropologist’s entire arm was stained red, the intricate designs that had formed from the first cut forgotten under multiple other layers of blood. Korekiyo was hissing in pain just touching or moving it, so he decided it was time to stop- for now, of course. It was not his choice to make. Should Sister decide that it was not enough he would gladly- ah, he should not think about that just yet. Right now, cleaning up after himself and getting dressed for class was a priority. First and most importantly- the mask and bandages. After wiping off his right arm with the towel he had laid on his bed earlier-which made Korekiyo wince-, he started to wrap bandages around it. Two layers this time, in case his wounds started to bleed again. It took some time, mostly because he had to readjust them quite a lot, flinching when he pulled them too tight. Pathetic, really. The left arm took less time, fortunately. 

After about 30 minutes, which was less time than he was used to, he had finished putting on his uniform and mask, as well as his makeup. 7:50 am. Ah, so he would still make it to the gym on time. That was good, he supposed, although him arriving this late might still seem odd to the others. Then again, Korekiyo was not usually paid much attention by anyone. It will be fine, he scolded himself. And even if someone was going to notice him being late, they would not automatically be able to make guesses about his activities. Korekiyo was fine, he had done nothing wrong that he did not already get punished for and no one would notice anything wrong with him. Yes, he would be okay. 

With that in mind, the anthropologist made his way to the cafeteria.


End file.
